Cries In The Night
by Wirral Bagpuss
Summary: Holmes and Watson are out on a case chasing a dangerous thief and murderer. But things begin to go wrong for both of them. Can they survive? Read on and find out !
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or Dr Watson. Just having fun with them!! But if i were ever in trouble i would turn to them first for help !! :)_**

**Cries In The Night**

**Chapter One**

The case had gone well. It was the week before Christmas 1899. Holmes and Watson had been pursuing a bank robber and murderer Jack Scragmore. He was somewhat notorious in the Underworld for his cruelty towards his fellow man. It had been a dangerous undertaking and being aware of how dangerous Scragmore was, Holmes had brought his own revolver with him.

The pursuit had taken Holmes and Watson to a small village called Glenelg in the Highlands of Scotland. The place was surrounded by craggy hills and rough terrain. Now Holmes and Watson had located Scragmore's hiding place and had cornered him. One could feel the presence of Scragmore, like a predatory animal waiting for its prey. Out of the darkness, Scragmore lashed out sending Watson flying to the floor. Watson let out a muffled groan as he had landed badly and held his shoulder as the pain flared up and intensified. Holmes leapt to Watson's defence and placed a left cross sending his quarry down. Scragmore remained motionless. Holmes turned to Watson whilst digging into his pocket for a pair of derbies to see if his friend and colleague was alright. Clutching his still sore shoulder, and before Watson had a chance to reassure Holmes, his eyes widened in horror as Scragmore had suddenly got up and hit the back of Holmes's head hard. With a grunt Holmes collapsed to the floor unconscious. With a chilling smile of triumph, Scragmore made an escape to the door. Watson tried to tackle him but was shaken off by Scragmore who disappeared into the fading light.

Watson groaned and pushed himself off the floor, still clutching his sore shoulder, and made his way to Holmes who began to stir. Watson began examining Holmes's head and grimaced seeing it was a bad cut.

"Easy Holmes, don't try to move too soon. You have a nasty head injury; I'll try to make you as comfortable as possible". Said an increasingly concerned Watson.

Watson tore a strip of cloth from his jacket and proceeded to tie a makeshift bandage around the head wound. He then took off his jacket and rolled it up carefully placing it under Holmes's head. He then found an old sack and used it to cover Holmes shielding from the cold. Watson checked his revolver to ensure it was fully loaded and snapped the barrel shut with a sharp click and with a look of determination etched on his face. He looked at Holmes once more ensuring he was comfortable and then stood up and headed for the door, and began his chase after Scragmore._ I will find the fiend who did this to Holmes! _Thought Watson angrily.

Holmes's eyes flashed opened, awoken by the snap of the revolver's barrel and groggily looked to see Watson leaving and alarmed he cried out after his Boswell.

"Wat-" Holmes attempt to call out was cut short by a spate of dizziness and he was forced to lie back down clutching his head which was throbbing painfully. He clutched his head wishing the room would stop spinning so much. As unconsciousness claimed him once more, his final thoughts concerned the safety of Watson. _Be careful my dear friend, the darkness is falling and the terrain is dangerous_.

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_**OOOOH ! A Cliffhanger !! Hahaha! Hope you enjoyed that opening chapter!! I promise you there is more to come soon ! And hopefully worth waiting for too !! :)**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_Thank you so much to everyone for your lovely reviews. i am so glad everyone is enjoying the story! As promised here is the next installment!! :)_**

**Chapter Two**

Watson ran still full of blind fury, searching for Scragmore. It was only as he stopped to catch his breath that he realised it was now dark. Dismissing the thought from his mind he ran on. He fought back the biting wind and concentrated on finding Scragmore. And that was when he made his mistake. Watson stumbled over a rock and was sent hurtling down a steep hill. Watson did not even have time to cry out as his body continued to fall, and he was unable to do anything about it. His descent was halted as his body violently smashed into a jaggered rock which pierced his shoulder, Watson cried out in pain, clutching his shoulder and the blood seeped though his fingers, rivulets pouring down between his knuckles. He gasped trying to control the pain but the pain of his injuries overwhelmed him and the encroaching blackness that had been creeping up on him won and claimed him. Watson was alone, with only the biting winter wind howling across the Scottish hills.

The cold winter air finally revived Watson who moaned with the pain of a thousand knives cutting into him, he shivered violently and looked up to see Scragmore staring malevontly at him, he could see his face as Scragmore had lit a candle. Watson barely had time to register this as he was pulled by his hair and felt himself being pulled closer to his tormentor. Seeing Scragmore as he was drawn closer to the flickering candle, he saw the wind swept etched lines on Scragmore's face, _no doubt obtained being a sailor and spending years at sea _thought Watson as he put into practice some of Holmes's methods of observation, despite being ill and in pain. His thoughts were interrupted by Scragmore who gripped Watson's hair tighter and announced

"Your friend is dead. Went back and shot him in the head. He was begging for his life, like a coward". Scragmore was laughing as he roughly pushed Watson back against the rock.

He laughed cruelly as he saw look of grief and pain wash over Watson. Watson moaned and choked back his tears as this time it was not the cold that numbed him but the grief that clutched his heart and was breaking it.

"Holmes..." cried Watson as he wrapped his arms round himself shaking violently from shock and cold.

It was the sound of the click of a revolver that made Watson look up and found himself staring at a revolver trained on him. _His revolver_. Scragmore sneered as he pointed the revolver at Watson.

"Your turn to die Doctor". Scragmore's voice was full of hate and his eyes were devoid of anything but sheer evil.

Watson coughed, struggling to breathe and weakly responded

"There is nothing you can do to hurt me now. Holmes is dead, I-"

Watson's was unable to finish as a flash of white hot pain racked his broken body.

Scragmore pulled back the hair trigger and Watson knew this was the end, but then his face drained of colour completely as he saw a familiar figure appear in the early dawn light._ I am already seeing his ghost_ thought Watson whose eyes widened in shock at the sight. Without warning the ghost struck hard at Scragmore who collapsed to the ground with the full force of the blow and the gun fired harmlessly into the air. Holmes delivered two more blows rendering Scragmore unconscious. He took out his derbies dragging Scragmore to a nearby tree and cuffed the derbies on Scragmore and tied him to the tree.

Job done Holmes staggered back to Watson collapsing next to him. He gently took hold of his friend and rolled him on his back, reaching for neck and checked his pulse. It was weak, _too weak _thought Holmes grimly. Holmes could see Watson had lost a lot of blood with the bad injury to his shoulder, and with his trouble breathing, Holmes also suspected a fractured rib or two. He needed to get Watson warm as he was suffering from severe exposure having laid unconscious in the cold most of the night. He took off the coat Watson had given him to act as a pillow and it now became a blanket. His friend stirred moaning softly as the movement jarred his injuries. With a struggle he opened his eyes and gasped as saw the one face he never thought he would see again. Watson reached out for Holmes clutching his jacket trying to speak but could only manage to barely whisper Holmes's name. Holmes clutched Watson's arm and gently squeezed his hand and smiled softly, his grey eyes betraying the concern for his friend.

"Easy Watson, I am here. I will get you out of here. Rest old fellow. Leave everything to me". Replied Holmes.

Holmes gently lifted Watson into his arms, as he did so Watson sighed and rested his head against Holmes's chest, and was weakly asking for Holmes. Holmes looked down at his exhausted and badly injured friend and choked back his tears and slowly began to make his way up the steep hill and to a waiting horse and cart that he had found whilst looking for Watson and Scragmore. He settled Watson into the back of the cart ensuring he was comfortable. He noticed with alarm that Watson had once more fallen unconscious.

Holmes stopped as his head hurt; he was still not recovered from his own injury. He looked at Scragmore and was tempted to leave him tied to the tree. But he knew Watson would never forgive him if he let his hatred consume him. Reluctantly Holmes went back down to Scragmore who was still out cold and roughly dragged him to the cart and placed him next to the driver seat cuffed to the cart. Holmes turned to check on Watson one more time and then set off towards Glenelg. The horse and cart picked up speed and was soon disappearing into the early morning Scottish mist. Holmes would not rest until Watson got the help he so urgently needed and saw to it that Scragmore was safely in the hands of the Police.

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**_TBC !!! I hope you enjoyed this. More to come probably over the weekend, as for once i am not working or doing much needed overtime, so plenty of time for writing !!! :)_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Thank so much to everyone for your wonderful reviews which has given me so much joy ! :) Here is Chapter Three as promised. Hope you enjoy it !!_**

**Chapter Three**

_Watson felt the intense heat of flames. He was trapped and in the distance he heard Holmes calling out his name. Watson tried to move forward towards Holmes but he felt himself being pushed back. Watson felt being increasingly frustrated as he struggled against the force holding him back, and called out to Holmes over and over again. He felt the flames intensity become fiercer still and Watson desperately tried to escape. He heard Holmes calling for him once more, and Watson made a last desperate attempt to reach his friend whose hand was stretched out to him. He was almost within reach and then suddenly Watson no longer felt the flames. He now found himself in a dark void. It was peaceful here. Warm and calm. He saw a light. It looked so inviting, becoming brighter. Watson walked towards it and then he heard a familiar voice crying out to him, pleading him to stay and not to go. Watson became torn between this bright light and the voice calling for him. Holmes needed his help. He could not ignore him. Looking at the light one more time, he wondered what it was and then turned in the other direction and towards his grief stricken friend. Holmes's voice became louder and louder as he walked closer to Holmes. And then the darkness was gone._

Watson became aware of sunlight as he opened his eyes. Immediately in front of him he saw a roaring fire, the logs on top of each other and crackling as it burnt. He then felt the sensation of cool soft linen wrapped round him and the comfort of soft pillows behind him. Watson turned to his left, somewhat painfully and he saw Holmes sat in his chair, clearly exhausted and gaunt. His hair was dishevelled and Holmes had been reading a paper which had since slipped through his fingers and onto the floor. Watson smiled wearily as he saw his friend and worked his hand free from the blanket that covered him and slowly reached out for his friend. He did not like to wake him, but he was feeling terribly thirsty.

Holmes started awake as he felt the touch of Watson's hand on his arm. He saw Watson awake although clearly tired and in some pain. But Holmes feeling of exhaustion and grief gave way to one of joy and happiness at seeing his Boswell alive and out of danger. He clasped Watson's hand in his and with sheer delight he smiled looking at Watson.

"It is certainly good to see you awake Watson, you have been in and out for the last several days. I came close to losing you. Please don't do that to me again..." said Holmes whose voice almost broke.

Watson tried to reply but could barely manage a croak. Holmes got up and poured a glass of water and went back to Watson, supporting him with his wiry arm behind Watson's back as Watson drank the cool water. Watson lay back exhausted after drinking the water. Holmes took the glass from Watson and placed it down on a nearby table and then propped up a few pillows behind Watson so that he would be more comfortable when speaking with Holmes.

"Scragmore…" croaked Watson.

"Do not worry about that animal Watson; he is behind bars in the care of the Scottish Police. He will never hurt anyone again ". Replied Holmes whose eyes blazed with fury at recalling what Scragmore had done to his friend.

"He said you…..were dead….Holmes I-"Watson broke off unable to continue as his eyes welled up with tears.

Holmes saw the distress Watson was in and leant forward and took hold of both Watson's hands.

"Watson I am here, I am alive. It was you who I was more worried about, I promise you I will not let anything happen to you" said Holmes gently.

Watson's weary brown eyes stared at concerned grey ones and he turned away with shame and self loathing. Holmes worried about Watson's frame of mind tried to coax Watson out of his melancholy state.

"Pray Watson, tell me what is wrong my friend. Let me be your anchor as you have been for me so many times." Holmes said simply.

"Holmes…I let you down…should never have gone off like that….I left you vulnerable…Scragmore said you were dead…I can never forgive myself for what I did …..".

Watson was unable to continue as the grief, feeling of guilt and joy at seeing Holmes alive once more overwhelmed him and turned away not wanting Holmes to see his tears. He felt he had let Holmes down and that Holmes no longer wanted to be a friend.

Holmes stared at his distressed friend. _Is that what Watson really thinks? That I would desert him even if mistakes were made? _Thought Holmes in surprise. He laid a gentle hand on Watson's arm and spoke softly to him.

"Watson, please...look at me. You have never let me down. Don't ever think that my dear friend". Pleaded Holmes as hoped his words would get through to his distressed Boswell.

Watson at first did not appear to respond, but then he shifted with some pain and difficulty and turned to face Holmes once more.

"You are not angry with me? You still wish to be a friend after what I did to you? Asked Watson incredulously.

"My dear Watson, we both made mistakes. I should never have turned my back on Scragmore, if I had not you would not be hurt right now. I can never forgive myself for that. It is I who should be apologising to you. As to you running after Scragmore, well you always were a soldier Watson. You did what you thought was right. I can hardly blame you for that ".

Watson considered Holmes's words carefully and then smiled gratefully.

"Thank You Holmes, I thought our friendship was at an end because of a mistake. I am so glad we are still friends. I could never face losing you again". Said Watson, who was beginning to feel the tendrils of darkness begin to claim him once more.

Holmes took Watson's hands in his and squeezed them softly and stared in Watson's pain filled hazel eyes.

"Watson, we may both make mistakes in the Partnership, we may sometimes argue, we may not always disagree with each other on certain issues. But a true friend will never turn their back on another. I will never leave you Watson. Of that you can be certain. We will resolve whatever conflict that lies between us, and we will move on. Your friendship is far too important to me dear fellow to let it crumble to dust".

Holmes grey eyes began to fill with tears as he spoke and he had to blink several times to keep the tears at bay. _Three long years in an enforced separation had been bad enough _thought Holmes_._

Watson was losing the fight to stay awake, but managed to whisper weakly to Holmes one final request.

"Take me back home, to Baker Street. I want spend Christmas Day with you there, away from Scragmore. Away from all of this". Watson finally lost the fight to stay awake and he fell into the embrace of Morpheus.

Holmes stood up and smiled, carefully covering Watson with the blanket, which Watson had cast aside earlier.

"Sleep well my friend" said Holmes softly. He left the room Watson was sleeping in and made arrangements for the journey back to London. _Watson was right_ thought Holmes, _Baker Street was home, and nothing would ever change that._ He smiled. fondly. He would never truly know Watson's limits.

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As the train pulled into Paddington Station, Holmes helped an exhausted Watson off the train and into a waiting hansom cab, which soon disappeared into the fog of London. They had been forced to wait another day in Glenelg as Watson had been too ill to be moved. However on the following day Watson had recovered somewhat sufficiently enough to travel. On arriving back at Baker Street, Mrs Hudson was overjoyed to see her two favourite tenants arrive back for Christmas and began preparations for Christmas Lunch the following day. Holmes half carried Watson into his bedroom. He carefully helped Watson out of his clothes and into bed. Watson would use his bedroom until he recovered. Holmes decided he would sleep on the couch and be near Watson if he were needed. He settled into his favourite chair, with a glass of brandy and stared at the fire, and began to sleep. The journey had been exhausting for both of them. His slumber was interrupted an hour later by a knock on the door and Mrs Hudson appeared with a small silver tray on which laid a telegram. Holmes took it with a flourish and opened it. His face paled as he read the note, it was from the Scottish Police. Scragmore had escaped during a transfer to a more secure prison and was last seen heading towards London. Holmes let out a cry of frustrated fury. _The incompetent fools_ thought Holmes as he angrily tossed the telegram into the fire. The case was not over yet. Danger was coming and Holmes would do everything he could to protect Watson whatever the consequences may be.

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**_Hahahaha! Another cliffhanger !! What is going to happen to our boys? TBC !! Hope you enjoyed this chapter ! I will be writing the next chapter this week, but probably wont be able to upload it until this weekend. See you then !! :)_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four **

Holmes sat in his chair, alert. He had his hands closed together pointed upwards, his eyes were closed but Holmes was alert deep in concentration, listening to every creak and movement in the house. Watson was moaning in his fevered sleep. Holmes rose and entered his bedroom, placing his revolver on his dresser, and found Watson moving restlessly in his bed. He sat next to Watson placing his hand on Watson's forehead, softly assuring him that he was safe and that he should rest. The moaning stopped and he felt Watson slip into a more peaceful sleep. Holmes sighed_. It is almost Christmas Day, and yet danger is coming, I must protect him at all costs_, thought Holmes glumly.

In the back alley a figure emerged from the alley, a dying gas light revealed the figure of the man to be Jack Scragmore, bent on revenge for his imprisonment. He opened the creaky back gate and slowly made his way to the back door of the house he had targeted. He growled in frustration as the back door was locked. He picked up a nearby brick and wrapped his coat round it to muffle the sound of the breaking glass. Having successfully done so he reached inside and unlocked the door from the inside and let himself in. It was almost 5am in the morning, and Mrs Hudson had woken early to start preparations for the day. She had just walked into the kitchen and looked up in horror to see the intruder. Before Mrs Hudson had a chance to scream, Scragmore had gripped hold of Mrs Hudson and clammed his grimy hand over her mouth and then with the butt of a revolver smashed it across her head. Scragmore allowed Mrs Hudson to fall to the ground like a limp rag doll. He chuckled to himself laughing as Mrs Hudson fell. He saw the entrance to the hallway and proceeded to leave the kitchen and looked up at the seventeen steps up to the first floor. He slowly began to walk the steps upstairs.

In his bedroom upstairs Holmes watched Watson sleep and tensed himself as he heard a sudden creak on the stairs. He knew that it was not the footsteps of Mrs Hudson. Holmes stood up and with catlike movement walked towards the door placing his ear against the doorframe listening for further movement. He found himself holding his breath as he heard footsteps arrive on the first floor landing. Holmes could wait no more. He silently left his bedroom and closed the door behind him. He moved further into the lounge, past the couch and stood by his chair waiting for the intruder to enter. He listened as Scragmore made his way into the lounge. For the first time Holmes could see the shadowy figure, lighted by the dying embers of the coal fire behind him. _Scragmore_ thought Holmes angrily. He reached for an oil lamp above the fireplace mantelpiece and brought up the gas. Scragmore let out a surprised startle as the room lit up. Quickly Holmes placed his hand in his pocket to reach for his revolver and then remembered with a silent curse he had left it on the dresser in his bedroom. Realising the danger he had exposed himself to, Holmes reached for the nearby poker, only to be cut short by a shot that rang out from Scragmore's revolver. The bullet hit Holmes in the upper arm, the force of which threw him back hard against the mantelpiece. Holmes let out a cry as white hot pain lanced through his shoulder which he now held with his other hand desperately trying to stem the flow of blood.

"Not so clever are we Mr 'Olmes" taunted Scragmore mockingly, his eyes full of evil glee.

Holmes tried to get up using the wall as support, moving away from Scragmore, biting back the pain as he did so.

"Come now Mr 'Olmes, leaving so soon? I have been looking forward to meeting you once again. After all it was you who ruined my plans to rob the Lombard Bank. 'Ere, you should pay for that..."

Without warning another shot rang out and Holmes was this time hit in the leg, Holmes let out another cry as his leg gave way crashing down to the carpet once more.

Scragmore laughed, enjoying seeing Holmes in pain and defenceless. Holmes fought on to fight off the shock and encroaching blackness that threatened to overwhelm him. _Must stay focused…must protect Watson _thought Holmes as he desperately tried to raise himself off the floor with a bloodied hand. He looked up to see a gloating Scragmore come closer to him with his revolver pointing against his temple. Holmes looked to his bedroom door anxiously and closed his eyes. He feared not for his own life but that of his Boswell. _I failed him_ was Holmes's final thoughts as the sound of a revolver firing was the last thing he heard before his world became lost to darkness.

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It was the sound of a gunshot that finally awoke Watson who stood up in bed with a start. Even as ill and weak as he was, Watson knew the sound of a gunshot when he heard one.

"Holmes!"Croaked Watson in concern as he dragged himself out of bed and supported himself against the wall.

Watson heard an angry voice and with alarm recognised it as belonging to Scragmore. He laid his eyes on Holmes's revolver in alarm, which only increased further on hearing a second gunshot. Watson staggered towards it, picking it up, ignoring how heavy it felt in his hand and he pushed himself toward the bedroom door. He opened it and looked in horror as he saw Scragmore place his revolver against Holmes's temple.

"My God Holmes!" cried Watson raggedly as he took in the scene.

Scragmore turned in surprise at the direction of Watson's voice and saw Watson leaning on the doorframe and pointing a shaky revolver at him. He laughed mockingly at Watson, with an evil menacing grin on his face.

"Scragmore, put the gun down _**NOW**_" said Watson with a voice of steel that even Holmes himself would have had chills running down his spine on hearing.

"Watch me kill the great detective, Doctor!" laughed Scragmore, ignoring Watson as he cocked back the firing mechanism on the revolver.

His finger never had a chance to squeeze the trigger as Scragmore felt lead hot iron rip into his back, the force of which sent him crashing to the floor, the gun falling out of his hand as he did so. A last gurgle could be heard from Scragmore as he choked on his own blood and then there was silence. It was over. Scragmore was dead.

Watson dropped his own revolver which fell to the floor with a metallic thud and he pushed himself forward towards Holmes leaning heavily on furniture as he did so. Out of breath and sweat pouring down his neck Watson collapsed down next to Holmes and reached his hand down for a pulse, his emotions in turmoil as he saw the shocking amount of blood. _Holmes's blood _Watson agonised sombrely. As the Christmas morning bells rang out, Watson held his breath, closed his eyes, waited and prayed.

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**_Hahahaha another cliffhanger !!! And leaving Watson waiting on Christmas morning too !!! Hahaha! Thank you so much to everyone for your lovely reviews. They have been wonderful. Hope you liked this latest installment. I'll try not to leave Watson hanging on too long !! :)_**


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